Recipes from Auntie Carrie's Kitchen: Tamales!

Being from Northern Mexico*, I know all the secrets of Authentic Mexican Cuisine - the main one being that there are only three ingredients in all of Mexican cookery, and those are just rearranged and given a new name, like when the nerdy girl supposedly gets a life-changing makeover, but really she just takes off her glasses and brushes her teeth for once. But everyone's still like, Whoa! Enchiladas! Those were tacos a minute ago.

To fill your Mexican pantry, you need only the following:

1. Beans
2. Corn
3. Meat (a pig will do)

From those ingredients, you can make any Mexican dish you choose, like Easter Tamales, which is what we are making today. I do realize it's a week after Easter, but we had leftover meat, so we're making them again because they're that good. Plus, if I post this now, you'll have just enough time to grow your corn, dry the husks, and grind the masa for next Easter.

This excerpt from La Cocina de la Familia explains the origin of this festive meal:

The tradition of Easter Tamales comes from a little village called Oaxaca, where the days are hot and so is your sweat rash. One year, foxes killed all the chickens in the village a week before Easter. With no eggs to hide, one clever senorita (La Bruja, as she was known in Oaxaca) made fake eggs using soft dough as the white and a bit of meat as the yolk, all wrapped in a corn husk shell. Early on Easter morning she hid the little bundles all over the town, singing her wispy witch-songs all the while. It had rained the night before, but the sun was hot that morning and the water evaporated quickly, steaming the little "eggs" until the dough was cooked through. All the little children had to do was follow their noses to find the delicious Easter treats!

Of course, before long all the children had fallen ill with food poisoning, because you really shouldn't eat food that's been cooked on the ground.

[Disclaimer: This may or may not be entirely accurate. My copy of the cookbook is in Spanish, and I don't remember enough from elementary school Spanish class to understand the description under the tamale recipe. But it makes me look super legit to all my other chef friends who only have French cookbooks - suckas!]

When making authentic tamales, it is imperative that you grow your own corn, grind the masa, and collect the husks for wrapping the tamales. I think it goes without saying that you should butcher and roast your own meat in a hole outside, so we can skip that part. One tip for any beginners - right as you cuddle up to slit the animal's throat, sing this traditional Slaughter Song softly in its fuzzy, little ear to ease its suffering and lull it into a false sense of security:

O! this pig is fat,

This pig is fine,

His belly will be

Food for mine!

He roots around 

In muck and mud,

But fried up nice

He'll taste so good!

As crispy bacon

Or roasted rump,

There's not a meat

This pig can't trump!

So don't you cry

My little sow,

Just close your eyes 

As I gut you now!

This song is also commonly used as a lullaby for children who don't eat their vegetables.

Now, on to the recipe:

1. Roast the animal in a large hole, making sure to retain a generous hunk of the fat for your dough. Shred the pork and combine with a hot sauce made of ground jalapenos, garlic, onions, and salt. If you want, go ahead and add some fat to the sauce, as well. Many people serve a bowl of fat along with the tamales for dipping. Pig fat also makes a nice hair pomade, a tasty lip gloss, and a perfectly fine slip-and-slide when slicked across the grass and sprayed down with water.
2. Mix some masa with warm broth. Whip up the pig lard and add it to the dough. Smoosh it all together with your fingers until it stops making a gross squishing sound. Now it's ready to wrap!
3. Spread a thin layer of dough on a corn husk that's been soaked in water and drained. Place a bit of meat in the center, along with any other filling you'd like: queso, the eye of the pig, or another tamale. Then close up the tamale like so:
   
   
4. Line the little guys up in a steamer and place on the stove to steam away. Make sure not to turn the heat too high, or all the water will boil away while you're off eating leftover cheese, and you will burn the bottom out of your pot and then cry because dinner is ruined, and your hungry friends will get mad and rage-order a pizza.
5. Drizzle with hot sauce, add a hearty dollop of pig fat, and enjoy!
6. Oh, also - don't forget to unwrap the corn husk before you eat it. Those silk threads are a bitch to get out of your teeth.

* Or Southern California, as you Americans call it.



Images via Slice of Midlife, Tumblr.